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Autumn 1268

ists spir a led u p f rom t he wat er lik e br e at h a s

Eamon rowed the little boat. The sun shed pale, cool light as it woke from the nights rest and set morning birds to their chorus. He heard the cock crow, so arrogant and important, and the bleating of sheep as they cropped their way across the green fields. Familiar sounds all, sounds that had greeted him every morning for the last five years. But this wasnt home. No matter how welcoming, how familiar, it would never be home. And home he wished for. Home brought him wishes aching down to his bones like an old mans in damp weather, longings bleeding through his heart like a lover scorned. And under the wishing, aching, longing, bleeding, lived a simmering rage that could bubble up and scorch his throat like thirst. Some nights he dreamed of home, of their cabin in the great woods where he knew every tree, every turn of the track. And some nights

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the dreams were real as life, so he could smell the peat fire, the sweet rushes of his bed with the lavender his mother wove through for good rest and good dreams. He could hear her voice, her singing soft from below the loft where she mixed her potions and brews. The Dark Witch, theyd called herwith r espectfor shed been powerful and strong. And kind and good. So some nights when he dreamed of home, when he heard his mother singing from below the loft, he woke with tears on his cheeks. Hastily brushed away. He was a man now, fully ten years, head of his family as his father had been before him. Tears were for the women. And he had his sisters to look after, didnt he? he reminded himself as he set the oars, let the boat lightly drift while he dropped his line. Brannaugh might be the eldest, but he was the man of the family. Hed sworn an oath to protect her and Teagan, and so he would. Their grandfathers sword had come to him. He would use it when the time came. That time would come. For there were other dreams, dreams that brought fear rather than grieving. Dreams of Cabhan, the black sorcerer. Those dreams formed icy balls of fear in his belly that froze even the simmering rage. A fear that made the boy inside him want to cry out for his mother. But he couldnt allow himself to be afraid. His mother was gone, sacrificing herself to save him and his sisters only hours after Cabhan had slaughtered their father. He could barely see his father in his minds eye, too often needed the help of the fire to find that i magethe tall and proud Daithi, the cennfine with his bright hair and ready laugh. But he had only to close his eyes to see his mother, pale as the death to come, standing in front of the cabin in the woods on that misted morning while he rode away with his sisters, grief in his heart, fresh, hot power in his blood.

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He was a boy no longer, from that morning, but one of the three, a dark witch, bound by blood and oath to destroy what even his mother could not. Part of him wanted only to begin, to end this time in Galway on their cousins farm where the cock crowed of a morning, and the sheep bleated in the fields. The man and witch inside him yearned for the time to pass, for the strength to wield his grandfathers sword without his arm trembling from the weight. For the time he could fully embrace his powers, practice the magicks that were his by birth and right. The time he would spill Cabhans blood black and burning on the earth. Still, in the dreams he was only a boy, untried and weak, pursued by the wolf Cabhan became, the wolf with the red stone of his black power gleaming at his throat. And it was his own blood, and the blood of his sisters, that spilled warm and red onto the ground. On mornings after the worst dreams he went to the river, rowed out to fish, to be alone, though most days he craved the company of the cottage, the voices, the scents of cooking. But after the blood dreams he needed to be away and no one scolded him for not helping with the milking or the mucking or the feeding, not on those mornings. So he sat in the boat, a slim boy of ten with a mop of brown hair still tousled from sleep, and the wild blue eyes of his father, the bright and stirring power of his mother. He could listen to the day wake around him, wait patiently for the fish to take his bait and eat the oatcake hed taken from his cousins kitchen. And he could find himself again. The river, the quiet, the gentle rock of the boat reminded him of the last truly happy day hed had with his mother and sisters. Shed looked well, he remembered, after how pale and strained she had looked over the long, icy winter. They were, all of them, count-

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ing the days until Bealtaine, and his fathers return. Theyd sit around the fire then, so Eamon had thought, eating cakes and tea sweetened with honey while they listened to his fathers tales of the raids and the hunting. They would feast, so he had thought, and his mother would be well again. So hed believed, that day on the river when theyd fished and laughed, and all thought of how soon their father would be home. But hed never come, for Cabhan had used his dark magicks to slay Daithi the brave. And Sorcha, the Dark W itch even though shed burned him to ash, hed killed her. Killed her and somehow still existed. Eamon knew it from the dreams, from the prickle down his spine. Saw the truth of it in the eyes of his sisters. But he had that day, that bright spring day on the river to remember. Even as a fish tugged on his line, his mind traveled back, and he saw himself at five years bringing a shining fish from the dark river. Felt that same sense of pride now. Ailish will be pleased. His mother smiled at him as he slid the fish into the pail of water to hold it fresh. His great need brought her to him, gave him comfort. He baited his hook again as the sun warmed and began to thin the fingers of mists. Well need more than one. Shed said that, he remembered, that l ong ago day. Then youll catch more than one. Id sooner catch more than one in my own river. One day you will. One day, mo chroi, youll return home. One day those who come from you will fish in our river, walk our wood. I promise this to you. Tears wanted to come, blurred his vision of her, so she wavered

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in front of his eyes. He willed them away, for he would see her clear. The dark hair she let fall free to her waist, the dark eyes where love lived. And the power that shone from her. Even now, a vision only, he sensed her power. Why could you not destroy him, Ma? Why could you not live? It was not meant. My love, my boy, my heart, if I could have spared you and your sisters, I would have given more than my life. You did give more. You gave us your power, almost all of it. If youd kept i t It was my time, and your birthright. I am content with that, I promise you as well. In those thinning mists she glowed, silver-edged. I am ever in you, Eamon the Loyal. I am in your blood, your heart, your mind. You are not alone. I miss you. He felt her lips on his cheek, the warmth of her, the scent of her enfolding him. And for that moment, just that moment, he could be a child again. I want to be brave and strong. I will be, I swear it. I will protect Brannaugh and Teagan. You will protect each other. You are the three. Together more powerful than I ever was. Will I kill him? For that was his deepest, darkest wish. Will I finish him? I cannot say, only that he can never take what you are. What you are, what you hold, can only be given, as I gave to you. He carries my curse, and the mark of it. All who come from him will bear it as all who come from you will carry the light. My blood, Eamon. She turned her palm up, showed a thin line of blood. And yours. He felt the quick pain, saw the wound across his palm. And joined it with his mothers. The blood of the three, out of Sorcha, will lay him low, if it takes a thousand years. Trust what you are. It is enough.

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She kissed him again, smiled again. You have more than one. The tug on his line brought him out of the vision. So he had more than one. He would be brave, he thought as he pulled the fish, flapping, out of the river. He would be strong. And one day, strong enough. He studied his h and no mark on it now, but he understood. He carried her blood, and her gift. These, one day, he would pass to his sons, his daughters. If it wasnt for him to destroy Cabhan, it would be done by his blood. But he hoped, by all the gods, it was for him. For now, hed fish. It was good to be a man, he thought, to hunt and fish, to provide. To pay back his cousins for the shelter and the care. Hed learned patience since being a man and caught four fish before he rowed the boat back to shore. He secured the boat, strung the fish on a line. He stood a moment, looking out at the water, the shine of it now under the fullness of the sun. He thought of his mother, the sound of her voice, the scent of her hair. Her words would stay with him. He would walk back through the little woods. Not great like home, but a fine wood all the same, he told himself. And he would bring Ailish the fish, take some tea by the fire. Then he would help with the last of the harvest. He heard the high, sharp cry as he started back to the cottage and the little farm. Smiling to himself, he reached into his satchel, drew out his leather glove. He only had to pull it on, lift his arm, and Roibeard swooped out of the clouds, wings spread to land. Good morning to you. Eamon looked into those golden eyes, felt the tug of connection with his hawk, his guide, his friend. He touched the charmed amulet around his neck, one his mother had conjured with blood magicks for protection. It carried the image of the hawk. Its a fine day, isnt it? Bright and cool. The harvest is nearly done,

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and well have our celebration soon, he continued as he walked with the hawk on his arm. The equinox, as you know, when night conquers day as Gronw Pebr conquered Lleu Llaw Gyffes. Well celebrate the birth of Mabon, son of Mordon the guardian of the earth. Sure therell be honey cakes for certain. Ill see you have a bit. The hawk rubbed its head against Eamons cheek, affectionate as a kitten. I had the dream again, of Cabhan. Of home, of Ma after she gave us almost all there was of her power and sent us away to be safe. I see it, Roibeard. How she poisoned him with a kiss, how she flamed, using all she had to destroy him. He took her life, and still... I saw the stirring in the ashes she made of him. The stirring of them, something evil, and the glow of red from his power. Eamon paused a moment, drew up his power, opened to it. He felt the beating heart of a rabbit rushing into the brush, the hunger of a fledgling waiting for its mother and its breakfast. He felt his sisters, the sheep, the horses. And no threat. He hasnt found us. I would feel it. You would see it, and would tell me. But he looks, and he hunts, and he waits, as I feel that as well. Those bold blue eyes darkened; the boys tender mouth firmed into a mans. I wont hide forever. One day, on the blood of Daithi and Sorcha, Ill do the hunting. Eamon lifted a hand, took a fistful of air, swirled it, tossed i t gentlytoward a tree. Branches shook, and roosting birds took flight. Ill only get stronger, wont I? he murmured, and walked to the cottage to please Ailish with four fish.

Br a nnaugh w en t a bou t her du t ies a s she did e v ery

day. As every day for five years shed done all that was asked of her. She cooked, she cleaned, tended the young ones as Ailish always

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seemed to have a baby at the breast or in the belly. She helped plant the fields and tend the crops. She helped in harvest. Good honest work, of course, and satisfying in its way. No one could be more kind than her cousin Ailish and her husband. Good, solid people both, people of the earth, whod offered more than shelter to three orphaned children. Theyd offered family, and there was no more precious gift. Hadnt her mother known it? She would never have sent her three children to Ailish otherwise. Even in the darkest hour, Sorcha would never have given her beloved children to anyone but the kind, and the loving. But at twelve, Brannaugh was no longer a child. And what rose in her, spread in her, woke in hermore since shed started her courses the year beforedemanded. Holding so much in, turning her eyes from that ever-brightening light proved harder and more sorrowful every day. But she owed Ailish respect, and her cousin held a fear of magicks and power even her own. Brannaugh had done what her mother asked of her on that terrible morning. Shed taken her brother and sister south, away from their home in Mayo. Shed kept off the road; shed shuttered her grief in her heart where only she could hear it keening. And in that heart lived the need to avenge as well, the need to embrace the power inside her, and learn more, learn and hone enough to defeat Cabhan, once and done. But Ailish wanted only her man, her children, her farm. And why not? She was entitled to her home and her life and her land, the quiet of it all. Hadnt she risked it by taking in Sorchas blood? Taking in what Cabhan lusted for hunted for? She deserved gratitude, loyalty, and respect. But what lived in Brannaugh clawed for freedom. Choices needed to be made.

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Shed seen her brother walk back from the river with his fish, his hawk. She felt him test his power out of the sight of the cottage as he often did. As Teagan, their sister, often did. Ailish, chattering about the jams theyd make that day, felt nothing. Her cousin blocked most of what she h ad a puzzlement to Brannaugh and used only the bit she allowed herself to sweeten jams or coax bigger eggs from the hens. Brannaugh told herself it was worth the sacrifice, the wait to find more, learn more, be more. Her brother and sister were safe here as their mother wished. Teagan, whose grief had been beyond reach ing for days, weeks, laughed and played. She did her chores cheerfully, tended the animals, rode like a warrior on her big gray Alastar. Perhaps some nights she wept in her sleep, but Brannaugh had only to gather her in to soothe her. Except when came the dreams of Cabhan. They came to Teagan, to Eamon, to herself. More often now, clearer now, so clear Brannaugh had begun to hear his voice echo after she woke. Choices must be made. This waiting, this sanctuary, might need to come to an end, one way or another. In the evening she scrubbed potatoes, tender from the harvest. She stirred the stew bubbling low on the fire, and tapped her foot as her cousins man made music on his little harp. The cottage, warm and snug, a happy place filled with good scents, cheerful voices, Ailishs laugh as she lifted her youngest onto her hip for a dance. Family, she thought again. Well fed, well tended in a cottage warm and snug, with herbs drying in the kitchen, babes with rosy cheeks. It should have contented h er how she wished it would. She caught Eamons eye, the same bold blue as their fathers, felt his power prod against her. He saw too much, did Eamon, she thought. Far too much if she didnt remember to shutter him out. She gave him a bit of a poke b ack a little warning to mind his own. In the way of sisters, she smiled at his wince.

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After the evening meal there were pots to be cleaned, children to tuck into bed. Mabh, the eldest at seven, complained, as always, she wasnt sleepy. Seamus snuggled right in, ready with his dreaming smile. The twins shed helped bring into the world herself chattered to each other like magpies, young Brighid slipped her comforting thumb in her mouth, and the baby slept before his mother laid him down. Brannaugh wondered if Ailish knew both she and the babe with his sweet angel face would not be without magick. The birth, so painful, so wrong, would have ended them both in blood without Brannaughs power, the healing, the seeing, the doing. Though they never spoke of it, she thought Ailish knew. Ailish straightened, a hand on her back, another on the next babe in her womb. And a good night and happy dreams to all. Brannaugh, would you have some tea with me? I could do with some of your soothing tea, as this ones kicking up a storm tonight. Sure and Ill fix you some. And add the charm as she always did for health and an easy birthing. Hes well and healthy that one, and will be, I suspect, as big a handful on his own as the twins. Its a boy for certain, Ailish said as they climbed down from the sleeping loft. I can feel it. Ive not been wrong yet. Nor are you this time. You could do with more rest, cousin. A woman with six children and one in the pot doesnt see much rest. Im well enough. Her gaze fixed on Brannaughs for confirmation. You are to be sure, but could do with more rest all the same. Youre a great help and comfort to me, Brannaugh. I hope I am. Something here, Brannaugh thought as she busied herself with the tea. She sensed her cousins nerves, and they stirred her own. Now that the harvest is in, you might settle in with your sewing. Its needed work, and restful for you. I can see to the cooking. Teagan

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and Mabh will help there, and Ill tell you true, Mabhs already a fine cook. Aye, sure and she is that. Im so proud of her. With the girls seeing to the cooking, Eamon and I can help our cousin hunt. I know youd rather I didnt take up the bow, but isnt it wise for each to do what we do well? Ailishs gaze veered away a moment. Aye, Brannaugh thought, she knows and, more, feels the weight of asking us not to be what we are. I loved your mother. Oh, and she you. We saw little of each other the last years. Still she sent messages to me, in her way. The night Mabh was born, the little blanket my girl still holds as she sleeps was there, just there on the cradle Bardan made for her. When she spoke of you, it was with love. She sent you to me. You, Eamon, Teagan. She came to me, in a dream, asked me to give you a home. You never told me, Brannaugh murmured, and carried the tea to her cousin, sat with her by the peat fire. Two days before you came, she asked it of me. With her hands clasped in her lap over skirts as gray as her eyes, Brannaugh stared into the fire. It took eight for us to travel here. Her spirit came to you. I wish I could see her again, but I only see her in dreams. Shes with you. I see her in you. In Eamon, in Teagan, but most in you. Her strength and beauty. Her fierce love of family. Youre of age now, Brannaugh. Of age where you must begin to think of making a family. I have a family. Of your own, as your own mother did. A home, darling, a man to work the land for you, babes of your own.

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She sipped her tea as Brannaugh remained silent. Fial is a fine man, a good man. He was good to his wife while she lived, I can promise you. He needs a wife, a mother for his children. He has a fine house, far bigger than ours. He would offer for you, and he would open his house to Eamon and Teagan. How could I wed Fial? He is... Old was her first thought, but she realized he would be no older than her Bardan. He would give you a good life, give a good life to your brother, your sister. Ailish picked up her sewing, busying her hands. I would never speak of it to you if I believed he would not treat you with kindness, always. He is handsome, Brannaugh, and has a fine way about him. Will you walk out with him? I... Cousin, I dont think of Fial in that way. Perhaps if you walk out with him you will. Ailish smiled as she said it, as if she knew a secret. A woman needs a man to provide, to protect, to give her children. A kind man with a good house, a pleasing face Did you wed with Bardan because he was kind? I would not have wedded him hadnt he been. Only consider it. Well tell him we wait until after the equinox to speak to you of it. Consider. Will you do that? I will. Brannaugh got to her feet. Does he know what I am? Ailishs tired eyes lowered. You are the oldest daughter of my cousin. Does he know what I am, Ailish? It stirred in her now, what she held in, held back. Pride stirred it. And the light that played over her face came not only from the flickers of the fire. I am the oldest daughter of the Dark Witch of Mayo. And before she sacrificed her life, she sacrificed her power, passing it to me, to Eamon, Teagan. We are the three. Dark witches we.

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You are a child A child when you speak of magicks, of power. But a woman when you speak of wedding Fial. The truth of that had a flush warming Ailishs cheeks. Brannaugh, my love, have you not been content here these last years? Aye, content. And so grateful. Blood gives to blood with no need for grateful. Aye. Blood gives to blood. Setting her sewing aside again, Ailish reached for Brannaughs hands. You would be safe, the daughter of my cousin. And you would be content. You would, I believe it, be loved. Could you want more? I am more, she said quietly, and went up to the sleeping loft.

Bu t sleep elu ded. She l ay qu iet beside T e ag a n, wa i t ing

for the murmurs between Ailish and Bardan to fade away. They would speak of this match, this good, sensible match. They would convince themselves her reluctance was only a young girls nerves. Just as they had convinced themselves she, Eamon, and Teagan were children, like any others. She rose quietly, slipped on her soft boots, her shawl. It was air she needed. Air, the night, the moon. She climbed silently down from the loft, eased the door open. Kathel, her hound, who slept by the fire, uncurled and, without question or hesitation, went out before her. Now she could breathe, with the cool night air on her cheeks, with the quiet like a soothing hand on the chaos inside her. Here, for as long as she could hold it, was freedom. She and the faithful dog slipped like shadows into the trees. She heard the bubbling of the river, the sigh of wind through the trees, smelled the earth, and the tinge from the peat smoke rising from the cottage chimney.

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She could cast the circle, try to conjure her mothers spirit. She needed her mother tonight. In five years, shed not wept, not allowed herself a single tear. Now, she wanted to sit on the ground, her head on her mothers breast, and weep. She laid a hand on the amulet she wore the image of the hound her mother had conjured with love, with magick, with blood. Did she stay true to her blood, to what lived in her? Did she embrace her own needs, wants, passions? Or did she set that aside like a toy outgrown, and do what would ensure the safety and future of her brother and sister? Mother, she murmured, what should I do? What would you have me do? You gave your life for us. Can I do less? She felt the reaching out, the joining of power like a twining of fingers. Whirling around, she stared at the shadows. Heart racing, she thought: Ma. But it was Eamon who stepped into the moonlight, with Teagans hand in his. The keen edge of her disappointment sliced like a blade through her voice. You are to be abed. What are you thinking wandering the woods at night? You do the same, Eamon snapped back. I am the oldest. I am head of the family. The puny staff between your legs doesnt make you head of the family. Teagan giggled, then rushed forward, threw her arms around her sister. Dont be angry. You needed us to come. You were in my dream. You wept. I am not weeping. In here. Teagan touched a hand to Brannaughs heart. Her deep, dark e yes so like their mother s searched her sisters face. Why are you sad?

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I am not sad. I only came out to think. To be alone and think. You think too loud, Eamon muttered, still smarting over the puny comment. And you should have more manners than to listen to others thoughts. How can I help it when you shout them? Stop. We will not quarrel. Teagan might have been the smallest of them, but she didnt lack in will. We will not quarrel, she repeated. Brannaugh is sad, Eamon is like a man standing on hot coals, and I... I feel like I do when Ive had too much pudding. Are you ill? Brannaughs anger whisked away. She peered into Teagans eyes. Not that way. Something is...not balanced. I feel it. I think you do, and you do. So we will not quarrel. We are family. Still holding Brannaughs hand, Teagan reached for Eamons. Tell us, sister, why youre sad. I... I want to cast a circle. I want to feel the light in me. I want to cast a circle and sit in its light with you. Both of you. We rarely ever do, Teagan said. Because Ailish would we didnt. And she has taken us in. We owe her respect in her home. But we are not in her home now, and she need not know. I need the light. I need to speak with you within our circle, where no one can hear. I will cast it. I practice, Teagan told her. When Alastar and I ride away, I practice. On a sigh, Brannaugh ran a hand down her sisters bright hair. Its good you do. Cast the circle, deirfir bheag.

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r a nnaugh watched T e ag a n wor k , how her sist er

pulled light, pulled fire out of herself, gave the goddess her thanks as she forged the ring. A ring wide enough, Brannaugh thought, with amusement and with gratitude, to include Kathel. You did well. I should have taught you more, but I... Respected Ailish. And worry as well, Eamon put in, that if we use our power too much, too strong, hell know. Hell come. Aye. Brannaugh sat on the ground, looped an arm around Kathel. She wanted us safe. She gave up everything for us. Her power, her life. She believed she would destroy him, and we would be safe. She couldnt know whatever black power he bargained with could bring him out of the ashes. Weaker. She looked at Eamon, nodded. Yes, weaker. Then. He... eats

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power, I think. Hell find others, take from them, grow stronger. She wanted us safe. Brannaugh drew a breath. Fial wishes to wed me. Eamons mouth fell open. Fial? But hes old. No older than Bardan. Old! Brannaugh laughed, felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. Men want young wives, it seems. So they can bear them many children, and still want to bed with them and cook for them. You will not wed Fial, Teagan said decisively. He is kind, and not uncomely. He has a house and farm larger than Ailish and Bardan. He would welcome you both. You will not wed Fial, Teagan repeated. You do not love him. I dont look for love nor do I need it. You should, but even if you close your eyes, it will find you. Do you forget the love between our mother and father? I dont. I dont think to find such a thing for myself. Perhaps one day you will. So pretty you are, and bright. Oh, I will. Teagan nodded wisely. As you will, as Eamon will. And we will pass what we are, what we have, to those who come from us. Our mother wanted this. She wanted us to live. We would live, and well, if I wed Fial. I am the oldest, Brannaugh reminded them. It is for me to decide. She charged me to protect you. Eamon folded his arms across his chest. I forbid it. We will not quarrel. Teagan snatched their hands, gripped hard. Flame shimmered through their joined fingers. And I will not be tended to. I am not a babe, Brannaugh, but the same age as you when we left our home. You will not marry to give me a home. You will not deny what you are, ignore your power. You are not Ailish, but Brannaugh, daughter of Sorcha and Daithi. You are a dark witch, and ever will be.

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One day we will destroy him, Eamon vowed. One day we will avenge our father, our mother, and we will destroy even the ash we burn him into. Our mother has told me we will, or those who come from us will, if it takes a thousand years. She told you? This morning. She came to me while I was on the river, in the mists and the quiet. I find her there when I need her. She comes to me only in dreams. Tears Brannaugh wouldnt shed clogged her throat. You hold what you are so tight. To soothe, Teagan stroked her sisters hair. So not to upset Ailish, so to protect us. Perhaps you only allow her to come in dreams. She comes to you? Brannaugh murmured. Not only in dreams? Sometimes when I ride Alastar, when we go deep into the woods, and I hold myself quiet, so quiet, she comes. She sings to me as she used to when I was little. And it was our mother who told me we will have love, we will have children. And we will, by our blood, defeat Cabhan. Am I to marry Fial then, bear him the child, the blood, who will finish it? No! Tiny flames flickered at Teagans fingertips before she remembered control. There is no love. The love comes, then the child. This is the way. It is not the only way. It is our way. Eamon took Brannaughs hand again. It will be our way. We will be what we are meant, do what we must do. If we dont try, what they sacrificed for us is for nothing. They would have died for nothing. Do you want it so? No. No. I want to kill him. I want his blood, his death. Struggling, Brannaugh pressed her face to Kathels neck, soothed herself with his warmth. I think part of me would die if I turned away from

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what I am. But I know all of me would if a choice I make brings harm to either of you. We choose, all of us, Eamon said. One by three. We needed this time. Our mother sent us here so we could have this time. We are not children now. I think we were no longer children when we rode from home that morning, knowing we would never see her again. We had power. Brannaugh breathed deep, straightened. Though he was younger, and a boy for all that, her brother spoke true. She gave us more. I asked you both to let it lie still. You were right to ask it even if we woke it now and then, Eamon added with a smile. We needed the time here, but this time is coming to a close. I feel it. As I do, Brannaugh murmured. So I wondered if it meant Fial. But no, youre right, both of you. I am not for the farm. Not for kitchen magicks and parlor games. We will look, here within the circle. We will look, and see. And know. Together? Teagans face glowed with joy as she asked, and Brannaugh knew shed held back herself, her sister and brother too long. Together. Brannaugh cupped her hands, brought the power up, out. And dropping her hands down like water falling, she made the fire. And the making of it, that first skill learned, the purity of the magick coursed through her. It felt as if shed taken her first full breath in five years. You have more now, Teagan stated. Aye. Its waited. Ive waited. Weve waited. We wait no more. Through the flame and the smoke, well seek him out, see where he lurks. You see deeper, she told Eamon, but have a care. If he knows we look at him, he will look at us. I know what Im about. We can go through the fire, fly through

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the air, over water and earth, to where he is. He laid a hand on the small sword at his side. We can kill him. It will take more than your sword. For all her power, our mother couldnt destroy him. It will take more, and we will find more. In time. For now, we look only. We can fly. Alastar and I. We... Teagan trailed off at Brannaughs sharp look. It just... happened one day. We are what we are. Brannaugh shook her head. I should never have forgotten it. Now we look. Through fire, through smoke, with shielded sight as we invoke. To seek, to find, his eyes we blind, he who shed our blood. Now our power rises in a flood. We are the three. As we will, so mote it be. They gripped hands, joined their light. Flames shifted; smoke cleared. There, drinking wine from a silver cup, was Cabhan. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, gleamed in the light of the tallows. Brannaugh saw stone walls, rich tapestries covering them, a bed with curtains of deep blue velvet. At his ease, she thought. He had found comfort, richesit didnt surprise her. He would use his powers for gain, for pleasure, for death. For whatever suited his purpose. A woman came into the chamber. She wore rich robes, had hair dark as midnight. Spellbound, Brannaugh thought, by the blind look in her eyes. And yet...some power there, some, Brannaugh realized. Struggling to break the bonds that locked it tight. Cabhan didnt speak, merely flicked a hand toward the bed. The woman walked to it, disrobed, stood for a moment, her skin white as moonshine glowing in the light. Behind those blind eyes, Brannaugh saw the war waged, the bitter, bitter fight to break free. To strike out. For a moment, Eamons focus wavered. Hed never seen a grown

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woman fully naked, nor one with such large breasts. Like his sisters he sensed that trapped power like a white bird in a black box. But all that bare skin, those soft, generous breasts, the fascinating triangle of hair between her legs. Would it feel like the hair on her head? He desperately wanted to touch, just there, and know. Cabhans head came up, a wolf scenting the air. He rose so quickly, the silver cup upended, spilling wine red as blood. Brannaugh twisted Eamons fingers painfully. Though he yelped, flushed as red as the fire, he brought his focus back. Still, for a moment, a terrible moment, Cabhans eyes seemed to look straight into his. Then he walked to the woman. He gripped her breasts, squeezed, twisted. Pain ran over her face, but she didnt cry out. Couldnt cry out. He pinched her nipples, twisted them until tears ran down her cheeks, until bruises marred the white skin. He struck her, knocking her back on the bed. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she only stared. With a flick of his wrist, he was naked, and his cock fully erect. It seemed to glow, but not with light. With dark. Eamon sensed it was like i ce cold and sharp and horrible. And this he rammed into the woman like a pike while the tears ran down her cheeks and the blood trickled from her mouth. Something inside Eamon burst up with outragea vicious, innate fury at seeing a woman treated thus. He nearly pushed through that fire, that smoke, but Brannaugh gripped his hand, twisting bone against bone. And while he raped her for it was nothing else Eamon felt Cabhans thoughts. Thoughts of Sorcha, and the terrible lust for her that hed never quenched. Thoughts of...Brannaugh. Of Brannaugh, and how he would do this to her, and more. And worse. How he would

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give her pain before he took her power. How he would take her power before he took her life. Brannaugh quenched the fire quickly, ended the vision on a snap. And as quickly grabbed Eamon by both arms. I said we were not ready. Do you not think I felt you gather to go? He hurt her. He took her power, her body, against her will. He nearly found you he sensed something pushing in. I would kill him for his thoughts alone. He will never touch you as he did her. He wanted to hurt her. Teagans voice was a childs now. But he thought of our mother, not of her. Then he thought of you. His thoughts cant hurt me. But theyd shaken her, deep inside herself. He will never do to me, or to you, what he did to that poor woman. Could we have helped her? Ah, Teagan, I dont know. We did not try. Eamons words lashed out. You held me here. For your life, for ours, for our purpose. Do you think I dont feel what you feel? Even the secret fear drowned in an icy wave of rage. That it stabbed a thousand times to do nothing? He has power. Not what he had, but different. Not more, but less, and still different. I dont know how to fight him. Yet. We dont know, Eamon, and we must know. Hes coming. Not tonight, not tomorrow, but hell come. He knows you... Eamon flushed again, looked away. He knows I can bear children, Brannaugh finished. He thinks to get a son from me. He never will. But hes coming. I felt it as well. Then we must go. Teagan tipped her head to Kathels flank. We must never bring him here. We must go, Brannaugh agreed. We must be what we are.

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Where will we go? South. Brannaugh looked at Eamon for confirmation. Aye, south, as he is still north. He remains in Mayo. We will find a place, and there we will learn more, find more. And one day we will go home. She rose, took both their hands again, let the power spark from one to one. I swear by our blood we will go home again. I swear by our blood, Eamon said, we or what comes from us will destroy even the thought of him. I swear by our blood, Teagan said, we are the three, and will ever be. Now we close the circle, but never again close off what we are, what we have, what we were given. Brannaugh released their hands. We leave on the morrow.

E y es w eepy, A ilish watched Br a nnaugh pack her sh aw l .

I beg you to stay. Think of Teagan. Shes but a child. The age I was when we came to you. As you were a child, she said. I was more. We are more, and must be what we are. I frightened you by speaking of Fial. You cannot think we would force a marriage upon you. No. Oh no. Brannaugh turned then, took her cousins hands. You never would. It is not for Fial we leave you, cousin. Turning, Brannaugh packed the last of her things. Your mother would not want this for you. My mother would want us to be home, happy and safe with her and our father. But that was not to be. My mother gave her life for us, gave her power to us. And now her purpose to us. We must live our lives, embrace our power, complete our purpose.

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Where will you go? To Clare, I think. For now. We will come back. And we will go home. I feel it as true as life. He will not come here. Turning back, she looked into her cousins eyes, her own like smoke. He will not come here or harm you or any of yours. This I swear to you on my mothers blood. How can you know? I am one of three. I am a dark witch of Mayo, first daughter of Sorcha. He shall not come here nor harm you or yours. You are protected for all of your life. This I have done. I would not leave you unprotected. Brannaugh... You worry. Brannaugh laid her hands over her cousins hands, which rested on the mound of her belly. Have I not told you your son is well and healthy? The birthing will go easy, and quickly as well. This I can promise as well, and I do. But... What is it? You must tell me. As you love me so still you fear what I have. But you must bide me now, in this. Your son, this one to come, must be the last. He will be healthy, and the birthing will go well. But the next will not. If there is a next, you will not survive. I... You cannot know. I cannot deny my husband the marriage bed. Or myself. You cannot deny your children their mother. It is a terrible grieving, Ailish. God will decide. God will have given you seven children, but the price for another will be your life, and the babes as well. As I love you, heed me. She took a bottle from her pocket. I have made this for you. Only you. You will put it away. Once every month on the first day of your courses, you will drink one sip only. You will not conceive, even

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after you take the last sip, for it will be done. You will live. Your children will have their mother. You will live to rock their children. Ailish laid her hands over the mound of her belly. I will be barren. You will sing to your children, and their children. You will share your bed with your man in pleasure. You will rejoice in the precious lives you brought into the world. The choice is yours, Ailish. She closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them, they turned dark, dark. You will call him Lughaidh. He will be fair of face and hair, blue of eye. A strong boy with a ready smile, and the voice of an angel. One day he will travel and ramble and use his voice to make his living. He will fall in love with a farmers daughter, and will come back to you with her to work the land. And you will hear his voice across the fields, for he will ever be joyful. She let the vision go. I have seen what can be. You must choose. This is the name I chose for him, Ailish murmured. I never told you, nor anyone. Now she took the bottle. I will heed you. Pressing her lips together, Ailish reached into her pocket, took out a small pouch. This she pushed into Brannaughs hand. Take this. I wont take your coin. You will. The tears fell now, spilling down her cheeks like rain. Do you think I dont know you saved me and Conall in the birthing? And even now you think of me and mine? You have given me joy. You have brought Sorcha to me when I missed her, for I saw her in you day by day. You will take the coin, and swear to me you will be safe, you will come back. All of you, for you are mine as I am yours. Understanding, Brannaugh slipped the purse into the pocket of her skirts, then kissed Ailish on each cheek. I swear it. Outside Eamon did his best to make his cousins laugh. They askedhim not to go, of course, asked why he must, tried to bargain with him. So he wound stories of the grand adventures he would have,smiting dragons and catching magick frogs. He saw Teagan

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walking with a weeping Mabh, saw her give Mabh a rag doll shed made herself. He wished Brannaugh would hurry, for the leave-taking was a misery. Alastar stood ready. Eamonhe was head of the family, after all, had decided his sisters would ride, and he would walk. He would brook no argument. Bardan came out of the little stable leading S laine Old Slaine now, as the broodmare was past her prime, but a s weet-natured thing for all that. Her breeding days are done, Bardan said in his careful way. But shes a good girl, and shell serve you well. Oh, but I cant be taking her from you. You need A man needs a horse. Bardan set his calloused hand on Eamons shoulder. Youve done a mans work for the farm, so youll take her. Id give you Moon for Brannaugh if I could spare him, but youll take Old Slaine here. Its more than grateful I am to you, for Slaine and all the rest. I promise you Ill treat her like a queen. For a moment, Eamon let himself be just a boy, and threw his arms around his cousin, the man whod been a father to him for half his life. Well come back one day. Be sure you do. When it was done, all the farewells, the safe journeys, the tears, he swung up on the mare, his grandfathers sword and sheath secured against his saddle. Brannaugh mounted behind Teagan, leaned down once to kiss Ailish a last time. They rode away from the farm, their home for five years, from their family and south toward the unknown. He looked back, waved as they waved, found himself more torn in the leaving than hed expected. Then overhead Roibeard called, circled before spearing the way south. This was meant, Eamon decided. This was the time.

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He slowed his pace a bit, cocked his head at Teagan. So, how does our Slaine feel about all this then? Teagan looked down at the mare, cocked her head in turn. Oh, its a grand adventure to her, to be sure, and she never thought to have another. Shes proud and shes grateful. Shell be loyal to the end of her days, and do her very best for you. And Ill do my best for her. Well ride through midday before we stop to rest the horses, and eat the first of the oatcakes Ailish packed for us. Is that what well be doing? Brannaugh said. He tossed up his chin. Youre the eldest, but I have the staff, however puny you might think it i s which it isnt at all. Roibeard shows the way, and we follow. Brannaugh looked up, watched the flight of the hawk. Then down at Kathel who pranced along beside Alastar as if he could walk all day and through the night. Your guide, mine, and Teagans. Aye, we follow. Ailish gave me some coin, but we wont be spending it unless we must. Well be making our own. And just how are we doing that? By being what we are. She lifted her hand, palm up, brought a small ball of flame into it. Then vanished it. Our mother served her gift, tended us, her cabin. We can surely serve our gift, tend ourselves, and find a place to do both. Clares a wild place I hear, Teagan offered. And what better place than the wild for such as us? The pure joy of freedom ripened with every step. We have our mothers book, and well study, well learn. Well make potions and do healings. A healer is always welcome, she told me. When he comes, it will take more than healing and potions. So it will, Brannaugh said to her brother. So we learn. We were safe five years at the farm. If our guides lead us to Clare, as it seems

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they will, we may have the next five there. Time enough to learn, to plan. When we go home again, well be stronger than he can know. They rode through midday and into the rain. Soft and steady it fell from a sky of bruises and broodings. They rested the horses, watered them, shared oatcakes, with some for Kathel. Through the rain came the wind as they continued their journey, past a little farm and cabin with smoke puffing out of the chimney, sending out the scent of burning peat. Inside they might be welcome, be given tea and a place by the fire. Inside the warm and dry. But Kathel continued to prance, Roibeard to circle, and Alastar never slowed. And even the gloomy light began to die as the day tipped toward night. Slaine grows weary, Teagan murmured. She wont ask to stop, but she tires. Her bones ache. Cant we rest her a bit, find a dry place and There! Eamon pointed ahead. Near the muddy track stood what might have been an old place of worship. Sacked now, burned down to the scorched stone by men who couldnt stop destroying what those they vanquished had built. Roibeard circled over it, calling, calling, and Kathel bounded ahead. Well stop there for the night. Make a fire, rest the animals and ourselves. Brannaugh nodded at her brother. The walls s tand or most of them. It should keep the wind out, and we can do the rest. Its nearly end of day. We owe Mordan and Mabon who came from her our thanks. One wall had fallen in, they discovered, but the others stood. Even some steps, which Eamon immediately tested, circled up to what had been a second level. Whatever timber had been used had burned to

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ashes and blown to the winds. But it was shelter of a sort and, Brannaugh felt, the right place. This would be the place of their first night, the equinox, when the light and the dark balanced. Ill tend the horses. Teagan took the reins of both. The horses are mine, after all. Ill see to them, if you make us a place, a dry spot Im hoping, and a good fire. That Ill do. Well give our thanks, then have some tea and some of the dried venison before w e She broke off as Roibeard swooped down, perched on a narrow stone ledge. And dropped a fat hare on the ground at Eamons feet. Well now, thats a feast in the making. Ill clean it, Teagan tends the horses, and Brannaugh the fire. A dry spot, she thought, and shoving back the hood of her cloak imagined one. Drew up and out what she was, thought of warm and dryand flashed out heat so bright and hot it nearly burned them all before she drew it down again. Im sorry for that. I havent done any of this before. Its a cork out of a bottle, Eamon decided. And it poured out too fast. Aye. She slowed it, carefully, carefully. She didnt mind the wet for herself, but Teagan was right. The old mares bones ached, even she could feel it. She eased back the wet, slowly, just a bit, just a bit more. It trembled through her, the joy of it. Loosed now, free. Then the fire. Magickal tonight. Other nights, as their mother had taught them, a body gathered wood, put the work into it. But tonight, it would be her fire. She brought it, banked it. A bit of the oatcake, and some wine, she told her brother, her

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sister. An offering of thanks to the gods for the balance of the day and night, for the cycle of rebirth. And for this place of rest. Into the fire, she told them. The cake, then the wine. These small things we share with thee, we give our thanks we servants three. At this time where day meets night, we embrace both dark and light, Eamon continued, not sure where the words had come from. We will learn to stand and fight, to use our gifts for the right and the white, Teagan added. In this place and hour, we open to our given power. From now till ever it will be free. As we will, so mote it be. The fire shot up, a tower, red, orange, gold, with a heart of burning blue. A thousand voices whispered in it, and the ground shook. Then the world seemed to sigh. The fire was a fire, banked in a tidy circle on the stony ground. This is what we are, Brannaugh said, still glowing from the shock of energy. This is what we have. The nights grow longer now. The dark conquers light. But he will not conquer us. She smiled, her heart full as it hadnt been since the morning theyd left home. We need to make a spit for the hare. Well have that feast tonight, our first. And well rest in the warm and dry until we journey on.

E a mon c u r led by t h e f i r e , h is belly f u ll , h is body

warm and dry. And journeyed on. He felt himself lift up, lift out, and fly. North. Home. Like Roibeard, he soared over the hills, the rivers, the fields where cattle lowed, where sheep cropped. Green and green toward home with the sun sliding quiet through the clouds. His heart, so light. Going home.

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But not home. Not really home, he realized when he found himself on the ground again. The woods, so familiar but not. Something different. Even the air different, and yet the same. It all made him dizzy and weak. He began to walk, whistling for his hawk. His guide. The light changed, dimmed. Was night coming so fast? But not the night, he saw. It was the fog. And with it, the wolf that was Cabhan. He heard the growl of it, reached for his grandfathers sword. But it wasnt at his side. He was a boy, ankle deep in mists, unarmed, as the wolf with the red gem glowing around his neck walked out of the fog. And became a man. Welcome back, young Eamon. Ive waited for you. You killed my father, my mother. Ive come to avenge them. Cabhan laughed, a rolling, merry sound that sent ice running up Eamons spine. Its spirit you have, so thats fine and well. Come avenge then, the dead father, the dead witch who whelped you. I will have what you are, and then Ill make your sisters mine. You will never touch whats mine. Eamon circled, tried to think. The fog rose and rose, clouding all, the woods, the path, his mind. He gripped air, fisted it, hurled it. It carved a shaky and narrow path. Cabhan laughed again. Closer. Come closer. Feel what I am. He did feel it, the pain of it, the power of it. And the fear. He tried fire, but it fell smoldering, turned to dirty ash. When Cabhans hands reached out for him, he lifted his fists to fight. Roibeard swooped like an arrow, claws and beak tearing at those outstretched hands. The blood ran black as the man howled, as the man began to reform into the wolf. And another man came through the fog. Tall, his brown hair damp from the mists, his eyes deep and green and full of power and fury.

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Run, he told Eamon. I will not run from such as he. I cannot. The wolf pawed the ground, showed its teeth in a terrible smile. Take my hand. The man grabbed Eamons hand. Light exploded like suns, power flew like a thousand beating wings. Blind and deaf, Eamon cried out.There was only power, covering him, filling him, bursting from him. Then with one shattering roar, the fog was gone, the wolf gone, and only the man gripping his hand remained. The man dropped to his knees, breath harsh, face white, eyes full of magicks. Who are you? he demanded. I am Eamon son of Daithi, son of Sorcha. I am of the three. I am the Dark Witch of Mayo. As am I. Eamon. On a shaky laugh, the man touched Eamons hair, his face. I am from you. Youre out of your time, lad, and in mine. Im Connor, of the clan ODwyer. I am out of Sorcha, out of you. One of three. How do I know this to be true? I am your blood, you are mine. You know. Connor pulled the amulet from under his shirt, touched the one, the same one, Eamon wore. And the man lifted an arm. Roibeard landed on the leather glove he wore. Not Roibeard, Eamon realized, and yet... My hawk. Not yours, but named for him. Ask him what you will. He is yours as much as mine. This is... not my place. It is, yes, not your time but your place. It ever will be. Tears stung Eamons eyes, and his belly quivered with longing worse than hunger. Did we come home? You did. Will we defeat him, avenge our parents?

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We will. We will never stop until its done. My word to you. I wish to... Im going back. I feel it. Brannaugh, shes calling me back. You saved me from Cabhan. Saving you saved me, Im thinking. Connor of the ODwyers. I will not forget. And he flew, over the hills again, until it was soft, soft morning and he sat by Brannaughs fire with both his sisters shaking him. Leave off, now! My head is circling over the rest of me. Hes so pale, Teagan said. Here, here, Ill fix you tea. Tea would be welcome. I went on a journey. I dont know how, but I went home, but twasnt home. I need to sort through it. But I know something I didnt. Something we didnt. He guzzled some water Brannaugh pushed on him, then shoved the skin away again. He cant leave there. Cabhan. He cant leave, or not far. The farther from home, from where he traded for his new powers, the less they are. He risks death to leave there. He cant follow us. How do you know this? Brannaugh demanded. I... saw it in his mind. I dont know how. I saw it there, that weakness. I met a man, hes ours. I... Eamon drew a long breath, closed his eyes a moment. Let me have some tea, will you then? A little tea, then I have a tale to tell you. Well bide here awhile yet, and Ill tell you all. Then, aye, aye, south for us, to learn, to grow, to plan. For he cant touch us. He wont ever touch you. Whatever boy hed been, he was a man now. And power still simmered inside him.

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